This Time I Mean It

Getting Past What Holds You Back with Baby Boomer Weight Loss Expert Scott 'Q' Marcus

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Making Change Stick: The Five Levels of Habit Change

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We develop patterns, which we call habits.

They’re like being bundled up in warm blankets with soft pillows on a cold morning; comforting, supportive, relaxing. Who would want to willingly change that? Continuing the metaphor, it can feel like moving to a sleeping bed on a hard floor, no air mattress, and the heater isn’t working.

Since we are in a period of paradigm-shifting, life-altering, stress-inducing, overwhelming change, I thought it might be helpful to understand why it’s so difficult to get new habits to stick.

Firstly, remind thyself that all change is spawned of fear, force, or pain. No one wakes up thinking, “I love my life! Let me see how I can change it.” We change because we see no alternative and because the “old system” wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe the times are different. Maybe we’re different. But something must adjust, and sadly it’s us. Being inspired to change by “negative” feelings also automatically puts us at a disadvantage as we’re not thinking clearly, to begin with.

To that end, know that there are actually five levels we must tweak, each deeper than the one prior if we’re going to make our sleeping bag become a cushy, fluffy bed.

The simplest, easiest adjustment is Environment; defined as that which “I see.”

Let’s say you’ve decided to be socially responsible and be concerned with the greater good by wearing a facemask. However, each time you leave the house, you forget your mask. An example of Environment change could be relocating your mask to a hook by the front door. Now, it will prompt you to wear it. Simple. Easy.

But it might not stay with you if you don’t change the next level: Behaviors, that which “I do.”

If I don’t modify those, my Environment reverts to unsupportive.

Continuing with our illustration, upon returning home, you remove your mask and put it in the washing machine. That makes sense, but that behavior means that when you leave, Environment is no longer provoking you to wear a mask. Consequently, a Behavior change must take place, such as obtaining a few masks and placing them all at the front door, plus remembering to hang cleaned masks there when you finish the laundry. This alleviates the difficulty of “forgetting” to wear one.

“But, I can’t keep remembering to put masks all around my house,” you might reply.

Welcome to level three: Capabilities, that which you “can” or “cannot” do.

Your perceived – and that’s the operative word – Capabilities determine which Behaviors will stick or fade. If your internal dialog is, “I don’t have time to do this,” or “I have too much else to do,” you’ll give up new Behaviors, putting you back to square one.

Capabilities are born of Beliefs, level four.

Beliefs, despite appearing as facts to us, are really not. They are feelings. They are not true for all but are to us. Continuing in our mask saga, if my Belief is that “masks are unnecessary and a pain in the behind” (um, poor choice of body parts for masks but you get my drift…), then you will consider it unimportant and pointless to amend your Capabilities to reinforce that you can indeed manage a couple of masks. Resultingly, new Behaviors fade, the Environment becomes unsupportive, old habits return. If my Belief changes to “I feel it’s important to wear a mask, no matter how awkward,” Capabilities shift, producing a positive domino effect.

With only a few hundred words, I can’t really delve deep into the concept of Beliefs, as there are so many extenuating conditions that affect them.

However, the Universal Truth they have in common is that they are the outgrowth of the deepest level, Identity, those words following “I am…”

We possess multiple Identities in which we adorn ourselves, depending on conditions. For example, my Identity of “Romantic” is certainly welcome and appropriate when it’s my wife, yet I would be out of line with my co-worker. Identities, like outfits, adjust to the settings in which we find ourselves. Rounding out the now overworn mask tale, if my Identity is “I am too busy to deal with this,” my Belief might be “this is ridiculous;” yet again collapse the dominos. Should I alter my Identity to “I am socially responsible and concerned about spreading the virus,” then Beliefs correct to “I feel it’s important to figure out a way to do this.” My Capabilities will now line up that empowerment. Behaviors adapt. Environment adjusts. New habit locks in.

Whether talking about pandemics, weight loss, productivity, or personal relationships, the pattern remains the same.

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a professional speaker and founder of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com, where he can be contacted for coaching, consulting, and presentations. During this social distancing period, he is conducting monthly on-line workshops on setting goals and getting past what holds you back. If you would like a free graphic of this topic or to know more about his workshops, go to www.ThisTimeIMeanit.com/handout

Life Lessons from a Sick/Healthy Cat

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Older picture of Tiger watching a lion on tv

Even though we live with three cats and a dog, my wife and I don’t refer not to ourselves as “pet owners,” opting rather for the moniker, “pet guardians.”

You are now thinking either:

  • “Meh, so what?” yet, continuing to read
  • “Oh, you’re one of those type of people,” possibly even falsely labeling me as “wacko animal rights activist.”
  • “Right on! I so agree with you. I wish more people felt that way.”
  • “This is nonsense,” deciding you have something better to do with your time and returning to your quarantined life.

I judge not your response.

What’s the difference between “pet owner” and “pet guardian”?

Well, um, honestly, probably not much beyond semantics. Countless millions of people share living quarters with animals while considering themselves good “pet owners.” Assuming they love, nurture, and take care of their furry, feathered, or reptilian family members; they’re correct.

Speaking on behalf of those of us who opt for the term “guardian,” the difference is that I don’t believe I “own” the animals. I mean, sure, legally, I’m responsible and all; but believe each soul exists to pursue its own path. As guardian to Tiger, Oreo, Hobbs, and Willie, my responsibility is to help clear their paths to allow them the fullest, happiest, healthiest four-legged existence possible. (Go ahead, cue the “woo-woo,” artsy-fartsy, new age, hippie music; I’m used to it.)

The manner in which this choice of terms manifests itself with us is that there are cat and dog toys strewn everywhere. A giant dog bed occupies our living room floor with countless lesser versions scattered elsewhere. For the feline contingent, there are perches, walkways, all manner of hanging things, and even a “catio” attached to our back door (so they can go outside but not run the risk of being hit by cars).

As stated, we are animal guardians.

Starting late last year, Tiger, our eldest, has been suffering from all manner of severe health conditions with symptoms pin-balling from lethargy to vomiting to constipation; dropping from a robust 12 pounds down to seven. In February, we were discussing end-of-life options, actually assuming a date. Whether “owner” or “guardian,” or neither, I’m sure you empathize with this gut-wrenching, emotional, devastating period.

Yet, in what I can only describe as a miracle, our 15-year-old Tiger rebounded.

As if treated by magic wand, he woke up and started eating, and eating, and eating, and eating. His fur regained its smooth texture; his eyes cleared; he even reverted to kitten-like behaviors. He filled out so much, we referred to him as “Buddha belly.”  Give praise! Sing hallelujah! Life is good.

Last weekend, noticing some fur was missing, we returned to the vet.

[Read more…]

One of These Days, When This All Passes…

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One of these days, morning will dawn on a world where this will have all passed.

One of these days, we will return to lives, no longer sheltering-in-place nor wearing protective gear and masks to leave our houses. One of these days we will again put on make-up, style our hair, dress up, and go out for a night at the theater, soaking in all the glorious laughter and chatter of being in a room full of people, no longer fearful of what might be transmitted. One day again, we will celebrate a special occasion at an upscale restaurant, surrounded a bit too closely by other diners – but we won’t mind. One of these days we will host dinner parties and wrap our arms around and hold tight each and every person who enters our house.

One of these days, we will look back with a mixture of sorrow and relief and anger and fear at this entire horrific, upending, devastating period.

Alas, that day is not yet.

It won’t be as far from now as we fear, nor will it be as soon as we would prefer.

But it is coming; as surely as the sun will rise and the winds will blow and the stars will shine; it is approaching. Paraphrasing T.S. Elliot, that instant will land not with a bang, but with a whimper; subtlety, slowly, surreptitiously making known its presence. In the same manner one cannot actually watch a flower open but can recognize its beauty when it blooms, that time is blossoming even now.

And when it does, what will you do to commemorate its arrival?

I will re-experience joy in the small things. No more will I socially distance myself nor self-isolate, instead smiling broadly when someone — anyone — passes me on the sidewalk. No longer having to swab everything with sani-wipes, I will plop down my butt on any park bench I damn well want or hang from its jungle gym, free of trepidation of what I might catch. I will relish the background noise and chatter of a crowded mall. I’ll stand nearer than six feet when in line at the grocery store and won’t be afraid to handle cash when I pay. [Read more…]

Getting Though It – What Will the Future Be?

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KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Last week, I forecast that within a week the 1,000 United States COVID cases and the 120,000 international cases would seem nostalgic.

Sadly, they are; everyone saw that coming. I’m not a soothsayer. Oh-so-seven days ago, states were floating the concept of limiting gatherings to 250-500 people. How quaint is that? Seniors were outside; the Bay Area was bustling; coffee shops, diners, and bars were open for business.

Oh, what a difference makes one week.

Currently the U.S. now has 7,668 cases with 117 deaths. The world count has risen to 212,799 with 8,787 people succumbing. It is recommended that those of us 65+ “self-isolate,” a term utterly unknown but a few weeks past. Recommendations are that we limit crowds to fewer than ten. Pubs, restaurants and eateries are shuttered. The markets are off approximately 35 percent from their highs, companies are failing, average people — like you and me — are without income. San Francisco is closed. Hospital ships are being sent to New York and the West Coast.

Four to five days from now, this might read like sentimental history.

I am case-closed certain that I am not the only person who feels like he or she has been transported into a sci-fi, environmental, economic, post-apocalyptic, end-of-times, action-adventure movie for which I did not audition; nor did I have any interest in being cast. Certainly, soon, the credits will roll, house lights will come up, and we can rise from our seats and leave the theater; a great idea if movie houses were even open for business.

If someone would have written this as a plot for a movie, it wouldn’t have been green-lit. No one would believe it.

Nonetheless, here we are. There’s no sugar coating it; things appear dire.

So, now that I’ve harshed your mellow, let’s look at where we go from here.

Recently, I heard an eloquent, simple analysis of how we react. It went approximately like this: Something happens; we create a story about its meaning; that story in turn creates our reality, and therefore what we believe is possible or not. In effect, “What we say to ourselves determines what we do to ourselves.”

Don’t misinterpret; this is scary stuff. Real lives are being affected. Some people will not survive, others will suffer long term economic and physical damage. Thinking positively and placing our hands on our chests, closing our eyes, and chanting “Om”, will not eradicate the virus nor heal the economy.

Yet, while we gingerly, one-step-in-front of the other, shakily traverse the swaying rope bridge from what was to what will be, it is essential we keep first and foremost the notion that we will emerge from this fiery, molten, hellscape. The terrain in which we will find ourselves will be shaped by how we think now, today, as we struggle to endure. We need to examine the thoughts and beliefs — in effect, the stories — we are telling ourselves; if we are going to find our way to a better place.

To that end, some thoughts to remember.

[Read more…]

Perfect Moments

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It’s 11:43 PM, the red LED numerals broadcast into the dusky room from the clock on my nightstand.

Teeth brushed and clothed for sleep; I am ready to end another hectic day. While sitting on the edge of the mattress, assessing the activities of the last 18 hours, I am aware of my dog, Willie, snorting and grunting and snoring in his bed, dreaming of chasing cats across our back yard. Speaking of such, our oldest feline, Tiger, has assumed his nightly position, curled up at the foot of the mattress, bogarting far more space than is necessary. (I’m consistently amazed how an eleven-pound feline can manage to hijack half the bed, causing my wife and I to hang on to the edges so we don’t tumble off.) Both kittens, Oreo and Hobbs, sleep soundly on perches in the guest room.

A streetlight, noticeable from our bedroom window, doesn’t shine directly inside; it’s not glaring; more of a faint glow that lightly crawls — just barely — over our neighbor’s roof, allowing for a vague pale light which scarcely illuminates the contours of our room. It’s rather comforting, providing just enough illumination to allow navigation alongside the side of our bed before I slip under the blankets. Upon doing so, laying on my left side, my soulmate, my wife — who went to bed an hour before me — snuggles up behind me (careful not to disturb Tiger). She drapes her right arm over my waist, nestles her face into the back of my neck and falls back to sleep. Reaching my right hand behind me, I pat her on the leg and whisper – so as not to wake her – “I love you.”

A light breeze slides through the screen, caressing us both as we drift off into the waiting arms of Hypnos, the God of Sleep. Before I do so, I make a mental note:

THIS is a Perfect Moment.

I’m aware that it won’t last. I know that in the future, we’ll be thrust into situations unwanted and unpeaceful; yet, right now, this instant, in the present tense – EVERYTHING is as good as it can ever be.

My last conscious thought for the day: Grateful beyond words.

Several weeks ago, I wrote a piece about “being where your feet are;” staying in the present, realizing that the vast majority of time, I couldn’t really ask for more. In the day-to-day hustle-bustle, clang-bang, slammed full of appointments and concerns, I don’t think I’m the only person who forgets how fortunate I really am. My health is fundamentally fine. I have the love of a family and the friendship of countless others. Where so many are shelter or food insecure, I afford my mortgage and keep my refrigerator well stocked.

Could it all change tomorrow? Sure. But, if worry were a cloak of protection, nothing would ever harm us.

[Read more…]

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Scott "Q" Marcus 707 834.4090 scottq@thistimeimeanit.com

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